


The Sounder and the Fury

by 27dragons, tisfan



Series: Nights in Sandbridge [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Animal Death, Background Steve/Nat, Lucky is a good dog, M/M, Property Damage, Puns & Word Play, Rimming, Teasing, and then they eat it, at least for those of us who aren't restricted from pork, he can't help it that his humans are dumb, relief-fueled sex, sharpshooter Bucky, sorry but pigs is good eats, wildlife encounter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 16:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11650284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Tony's been living with Bucky at Dockside for just a few weeks when he's confronted with one of the hazards of semi-rural life... Namely, the wildlife.





	The Sounder and the Fury

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** If you didn't notice it in the tags -- this story features an animal (specifically a wild pig) that gets killed and then eaten. If that bothers you, you might want to skip this story.

One of the nicer things about living above the Dockside was that there was usually a fairly large clump of empty beach around the restaurant. The fishermen who made use of the dock itself were like fishermen everywhere, religious about not scaring the fish. Even the crabmen who left pots out kept their boats far enough away that the area around the Dockside was damn quiet in the early mornings and late evenings.

 _Usually_.

The air was crisp with the hint of fall in the air, clouds scrimming a silver line across the sky and catching the sun, when the air was rent with the sound of someone screaming.

The closest home to Dockside was May and Ben Parker’s, where they lived with their teenage nephew, Peter. It wouldn’t be the first time Peter had done something remarkably stupid and enraged his aunt to the point of shrieking like a banshee, but this sounded more urgent than that.

Bucky rolled out of bed with a groan and scrambled around for a pair of jeans. He tucked himself in and zipped, headed out to the porch to see what the ruckus was about.

The very first thing that hit Bucky was the smell; he wasn’t sure if it hadn’t permeated the house yet, but the outside was… fragrant with animal waste, mingled with trash.

The flowerbeds outside the main doors were pulped; huge chunks of the sod torn up, the flowers themselves mostly missing. The lawns on the other side of the street -- including the Parkers’ -- were muddy and destroyed, the nice green patches full of holes and covered with trampled mud. Something had been in the trash; there were a dozen or more empty cans, their contents scattered from one end of the road to the other.

Bucky ducked around the garage apartment to look over the railing: the dumpster was still closed and locked, its trash secure behind the wooden gates. That, at least, was a relief.

Three houses down, a patrol car was parked in front of the yard. Bucky squinted, then went back into the house. “You are a _terrible_ guard dog,” he told Lucky fondly, yanking on the dog’s ears. Weekdays in the autumn, they were closed for lunch -- there just wasn’t enough business -- so Tony was still out like a light. Bucky rooted around under the bed for his work boots.

“Hey, babe,” Bucky said, nudging at Tony’s shoulder.

Tony whined into the pillow. It took another couple of nudges for him to groan and lift his head enough to squint at Bucky. “Wh?”

“Fury’s downstreet, a bit,” Bucky explained, lacing up his boots. “I’m gonna go see what’s up. Be careful, if you go out, there’s a sounder around.” He’d introduced Tony to Nick Fury before; Nick and Bucky had been friends back before Nick became a cop, which meant he was one of the few policemen that Bucky trusted at all. Nick and his girlfriend, Ilsa, were part of the game-night crew that sometimes met in Ghent for card games and assorted shenanigans.

Tony grunted and nodded and dropped his head back onto the pillow, and Bucky stifled the urge to mess up his hair, or climb back into the bed and drop a line of kisses down the back of Tony’s neck... Nope. Not now. Time to go be a responsible business owner and member of the community. Damn.

He grabbed a tee and pulled it on. Down the stairs, he stopped to photograph the destroyed flowerbeds. He had a contract with a lawn-care company for Dockside (not that they had a lawn, but the service kept the sand raked and the ornamental walkway stones in place, and maintained a few flowerbeds to soften up the edges of the place) but fixing this was going to cost extra. Bucky didn’t want to call them until he’d talked to his insurance rep to see if any of the damage was covered.

And he didn’t want to do _that_ without knowing whether the pigs were still on the sandbar.

He stepped around some incredibly odoriferous piles of pig shit on his way down the block to see how bad the damage was. They hadn’t had feral pigs on the beach in a long while. It wasn’t too unusual to get a few banker horses that wandered up from North Carolina, but they were easily spooked and didn’t usually cause too much trouble unless you kept rain barrels or particularly tasty vegetable gardens.

Razorbacks, on the other hand, they were dangerous.

“Officer Fury,” Bucky said, dipping his head a little sarcastically, letting Fury know he was inquiring as a concerned citizen and not just being nosy.

***

Lucky whined and hopped up onto the bed. With some work, the dog managed to worm his way under the covers, which would have been fine, except he stuck a wet and very cold nose against Tony’s belly.

“Ugggg, Lucky,” Tony complained. He shoved ineffectually at the dog’s nose; Lucky sneezed on him and then went right back to it. “You suck,” Tony said. Lucky didn’t seem terribly crushed. Tony sat up and scratched at his hair and his face.

Bucky wasn’t in bed. Tony seemed to remember being woken once before, when Bucky had said... He couldn’t remember exactly what. Something about Nick Fury and a... sound? Nick wasn’t particularly into music, but whatever. Bucky would be back in a little while, he assumed. He scooted to the edge of the bed and stood up, stretching. The fall schedule still seemed downright luxurious, even after a month.

He padded out into the bathroom and took care of his bladder, then decided to wait and see what was on the agenda for the day before showering and shaving. He made his way to the kitchen and scrounged up a mug of coffee, then headed for the door that led out onto the balcony. “Lucky? You need to go out?”

Lucky was underfoot the moment he called, but instead of grabbing his leash and panting eagerly, he nipped at Tony’s calf, then whined.

“Hey, knock it off,” Tony scolded. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” He tugged open the door and stepped out onto the balcony.

Lucky squirmed out, leashless. Usually when that happened, he’d bolt right away for the beach and give Tony all the fun of staying just out of reach while he rampaged across the sand and into the water. This time, however, the dog hunkered low to the floor, ears alert. His muzzle pulled back and he uttered a fierce snarl. He scooched backward, knocking into Tony’s legs, still growling.

“What the... Lucky, what’s the matter, boy?” Tony reached down to scratch at Lucky’s ears, to soothe him, and then he saw it.

Rooting around in what remained of the flower garden was an animal, a little smaller than Lucky, black, with bristly hair that stuck up, especially along its spine. A few lighter stripes dotted its flanks. The critter looked up at Lucky’s renewed growls and Tony caught a glimpse of elongated snout and wide eyes.

The pig gave out a sharp, loud squeal, then grunted, throwing up a snoutful of garden dirt and stamping down as if not satisfied.

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Tony groaned. “Go on! Shoo!” He waved at the pig, already knowing that wasn’t going to work. “Fuck.” He left his coffee mug on the railing and trudged down the stairs, barefoot.

Lucky barked, loud, aggressive. He bolted down the stairs, nearly knocking Tony over and planted himself at the bottom, legs spread, barking furiously.

The pig squealed, snorted, and scraped at the garden dirt with one muddy foot. It lowered its porcine head and charged at Lucky, who whined and dodged, biting at the animal’s hindquarter as it passed him.

“Jesus fuck!” Tony cursed, dancing back out of Lucky’s way. “Christ, it’s a mean little thing for something half your size. Lucky, c’mon, it’s just a little pig, stop being so squirrelly!” The pig had stopped and turned, and was apparently gearing up for another run. “Ug, I can’t deal with this in my shorts,” Tony complained. “I’m going to go back upstairs and get dressed, and then call--”

The sound behind him was loud, a deep-chested snort. Hot, fetid air wafted over his bare back. Lucky’s barks got more frantic and then the dog was behind Tony, snarling in a deep, angry tone that Tony had _never_ heard before.

Tony’d seen a cow, once or twice. Usually from passing cars so it was hard to judge their size. Not that cows seemed particularly threatening, even if they were big. They were lumbering and slow. Placid, chewing things.

 _This_ thing. This… _creature…_ was easily six feet long; its shoulder was damn near level with Tony’s chest. The head was the size of Tony’s whole torso, set low, with a huge nose and jutting tusks on a level with Tony’s stomach. And it was a lot damn closer than anything that big should have been. It didn’t make a cute little squeal either. It opened a mouthful of flat, ugly yellow teeth and _bellowed_.

Tony’s legs wobbled like they were suddenly made of water. He nearly fell, scrambled back, hands on the steps behind him to keep himself moving, backing up the stairs as fast as he could manage. His brain shorted out and rebooted into Safe Mode, a gibbering recitation of _fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck..._ He made it most of the way back up to the balcony before his heart started beating again.

The thing was fucking _fast_. Lucky barked again and the demon-looking monster lowered its head and charged at Lucky, huge head swinging from side to side, those tusks looking like fucking daggers protruding from the sides of its mouth. Lucky whimpered, rolled under the beast’s feet and came up on the far side. The dog whined and backed toward the stairs, snarling and snapping. How the _fucking hell_ did someone look at this and think, oh, yeah, we can totally domesticate these?

The boar got turned around again, the grunting, bellowing sound louder even than Lucky’s frantic barking. Backed up a few steps. Charged. Hit the stairs with its shoulder like a fucking football linebacker and the whole staircase swayed. Wood splintered and cracked. The boar shook its head again, tusks tangled with the ruined remains of the lower rail, ripping and tearing. The stairs canted at a dangerous angle, pulling away from the building.

“Oh my _god_.” Tony scrambled back further, all the way up onto the balcony. The fucking thing was going to rip the goddamn stairs off! It was-- “Lucky, _no_!” Fuck, the dog was still, what, trying to protect him? Shit shit shit-- “Lucky, go! Go run!” Shit fuck fuck damn hell! “Lucky, _get out!_ ”

The boar rammed into the stairs again, and the entire walkway shuddered. Tony’s coffee mug fell off the rail to shatter on the ground below. Tony grabbed for the doorknob to the house, hands shaking too hard to actually turn it. He gave up, clutching at the door frame and trying to summon enough breath to tell Lucky to run again.

Lucky whined and the pig turned on him, thundering after the dog. Fortunately, the pig ran in mostly straight lines, and Lucky wasn’t so constrained. A moment later, Tony caught sight of a dark shadow moving around the side of the garage, a familiar tangle of brown hair and a red henley, moving slow to avoid attracting attention.

Oh, god. No. No no no, that thing was a _monster_ , Bucky was going to get killed, what the _hell_ was he-- fuck fuck fuck, Tony couldn’t distract him or call attention to him. Tony was going to have to stand here and _watch..._

He heard a noise, a thin whine, and realized it was leaking from his own throat.

Bucky licked his finger, held it up, then shook his head. He moved again, slowly pulling a rifle off his back. Where the hell had he gotten that? Bucky didn’t own a gun of any kind, not that Tony knew about.

He shifted, then backed up rapidly. He pressed himself against the side of the garage as the pig snorted and stamped, headed back to the house and its interrupted meal of Stark-kabobs.

“ _Souieeeeee_ , pig pig pig pig,” someone yelled. The beast turned, snorting again.

“Nick, god _damnit_ ,” Bucky said, voice low. He stepped away from the garage and dropped to one knee. Bucky went utterly, utterly still. From Tony’s perspective, he seemed to barely breathe, finger ghosting over the trigger. Two shots rang out -- not Bucky’s rifle, but a small, flat _whap whap._ Out in the beach, two puffs of sand kicked up.

Confused, angry, the boar issued another one of those deep-chested bellows. It turned, whipping around as the wind shifted and charged, back toward Bucky.

Who wasn’t moving.

Tony was going to scream, he was going to fucking scream; that was his lover, his _life_. He couldn’t draw a breath, his lungs deflated and frozen in place, aching with the need to expand but utterly paralyzed. _Bucky, no!_

The sound the rifle made was deafening. Bucky rolled, tucking his shoulder into the sand and tumbling out of the way. He raised up on his knees as the boar came thundering by and slammed the rifle’s stock into the boar’s head, turning it. The monster went to its knees and then flipped in the sand, squealing, higher pitched.

Bucky staggered back a step, raised the rifle again and fired into the pig’s eye. Blood spurted in a shallow arc, staining the sand. The boar convulsed, legs kicking a few more times, but it couldn’t seem to roll over. Bucky drew a thick hunting knife from the back of his jeans, leaned in quick, and sliced the throat open.

People did not use the phrase _bleeding like a stuck pig_ lightly.

Blood gushed out, soaking Bucky from the hips down, poured in a torrent out into the sand.

Bucky staggered a few steps backward and fell to his knees.

“Ohgod,” Tony breathed. He took a step forward and grabbed at the balcony rail to keep from toppling over. “Bucky, oh _god_.” He dragged in a breath, finally, his lungs screaming, and managed to get his voice up to a croak. “Bucky! Are you okay?”

From his position on the ground, Officer Fury looked up, then shielded his eye. “Wow, Stark, put some pants on, man.” He holstered his service piece. A moment later, he dodged as Lucky tore by him, in hot pursuit of the piglet, which was squealing with a mix of fear and rage, barely ahead of the dog.

Bucky used his rifle as a crutch, pulling himself to his feet. He stared at the dead animal, then up at his place.

It was almost anticlimactic when the staircase pulled the rest of the way off the building and collapsed, bringing the walkway between the house and the garage down with it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bucky said. “Honey, you okay?”

“Um,” Tony said, because he honestly had no idea. He looked down at himself -- oh, he was still shirtless and in his boxers; that was what Fury had meant. He had a some scrapes and bruises on his ankles and calves, a couple of which were bleeding sluggishly, and a few more scrapes on his hands from where he’d crab-scuttled backwards up the stairs. His heart was still racing, pounding as if he’d run the whole length of the sandbar, and his hands were shaking worse than that one time he’d tried to face down his father. “Uh. Mostly?” he managed. “I think. Just scared half out of my mind. Are _you_?”

“Hopin’ we only got two razorbacks an’ not a full sounder. _Jesus_.” He poked the boar with his rifle. “Thought he was gonna bring the building down an’ you with it.” Bucky absently pushed his hair out of his face, leaving a thick smear of blood across his forehead and into his hair.

Fury finished talking into his radio. “You got a ladder? Stark can come down, or you can go… well, no, you best not go indoors like that. Go hose off, Pecos Bill.” Fury shoved Bucky in the direction of the garden hose. Fury stalked off to the garage and came back with the extension ladder. “I’m gonna need you to come on down, Stark, but you better grab some clothes for you and Barnes. Can you manage that, or you need me to come up?”

Tony resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Fury talking at him like he was an idiot was weirdly grounding and soothing. “I can do it. Give me five minutes to throw some things in a bag, since I expect it’ll be a few days before we can get our stairs fixed.” He glanced toward the side of the building, but Bucky was still around the corner, hosing off the blood.

He went inside and leaned against the inside of the door for a long minute, just shaking and teetering on the edge of panic. Finally, he pulled himself together and went into the bedroom. He dragged on his jeans and a t-shirt, then threw a few days’ worth of clean clothes into his backpack, and snagged his wallet, keys and phone off the dresser. He made a quick tour of the house -- grabbing the essentials, turning off the coffee pot timer. He circled the living room again, not sure what he was forgetting, and looked out the window.

The boar was still lying there. Tony looked it over carefully, confirming his first impressions of the thing’s size, then calmly went into the bathroom and threw up the few sips of coffee he’d managed. Jesus _Christ_ , they could have both _died_.

He pulled himself together _again_ , grabbed his pack, and went back outside. Fury was still waiting, looking more impatient by the second, so Tony slung on the backpack and shimmied down the ladder.

The collapsed staircase was a wreck, and the gouges the boar’s tusks had left in the wood were deeply unsettling. The boar itself did not look any smaller from the ground, either. “What now?”

“Ug,” Bucky said. He was stripped out of his shirt and shoes, his jeans dripping pink water everywhere. “I’m _freezing_ ,” he complained. “Remind me t’ clean my rifle later. Not today. M’ arm hurts too much.” Along his shoulder and down the side of his chest, a deep purple and green bruise was starting to bloom. In the distance, sirens were flaring up, headed closer.

“We’ll check the rest of the sandbar,” Fury said, “in case the rest of the sounder are still around. Go inside an’ stay out of the way. We’ll get th’ carcass off your lawn later.”

“The hell you will,” Bucky said. He tried to cross his arms, but winced. “I shot it. That's my pig. I’m gonna call Harry-Rex and get him to bring his smoker out. Twenty bucks a head, an’ I bet we can make enough to replace the stairs, at the very least.”

Fury made a dismissive gesture and stalked back to his patrol car.

Bucky watched him go, then turned back to Tony. “Oh, _God_. Tell me you’re okay, I thought… looked over an’ saw the stairs comin’ apart from the building…” He was shaking and it was hard to tell if it was just the cold or panic hitting now that everything was over.

Tony held out his arms so Bucky could look at him, fully sympathetic to Bucky’s need to _see_. His own eyes were unwilling to look away from Bucky. “I’m okay, baby. You scared the shit out of me, but I’m okay.” He watched Bucky’s eyes as they looked him up and down, seeking out possible injuries. “Come on, let’s go inside and put some ice on your shoulder,” he said after a moment.

Bucky nodded, then whistled for Lucky. “Stop botherin’ the piglet, and come on, dog.” He turned slowly, still shivering. “Almost wish my Dad was here. Bet even he’d be impressed with that beast.” Bucky looked over his shoulder at the dead boar. “I ain’t never killed anything before that could kill me back.”

Tony shuddered and wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist, pressing close despite the still-pinkish water dripping off. “I’ve never been so scared in my whole damn life,” he admitted. “Fuck, that thing is _huge_.” He tugged Bucky toward the kitchen door to the restaurant. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to want to let go of Bucky anytime in the next couple of days.

***

The rental house that Bucky and Tony managed for Clint had five bedrooms, an oversized living room, a back deck and jacuzzi, and in addition to the remodeling still underway, the land in the back was being cleared for a private pool. On the plus side, they’d gotten most of the ground floor redone, so the two largest bedrooms were finished and furnished.

Which was good. It meant they had somewhere to sleep while Bucky arranged a contractor to repair the stairs to get into their house. (The ladder worked well enough to get in and out for fetching a few things, but memories of the summer fire kept Bucky from suggesting they sleep there until the repairs were complete.)

Tony was cheerful about it, once he’d gotten through the adrenaline reaction. He steered Bucky firmly into the largest bedroom with its en-suite bathroom and view of the ocean. “Like a mini-vacation!” he said. “You know, aside from having to still go to work.”

Fury had kept the sandbar closed off except for local traffic for the day, to make sure there weren’t any more hostile pigs around, which was good. Bucky didn’t want to think what customers would have been like, confronted with a giant pig corpse right off the deck. Or all the blood. He’d hosed the parking lot down pretty well, but it still looked like someone had committed murder right in front of his place.

Having an evening off, somewhere _else_ , was sounding better all the time.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable,” Bucky said, pulling the curtains back to look out over the ocean. “The next few days’ll be busy while we get that monster ready for cooking.” He watched Tony in the reflection of the glass, a vague Tony-shaped ghost. The moon was just rising in the south-east, a silver crescent over the edge of the water. Bucky slid the patio door open, beckoning Tony to come join him. It was getting colder in the evenings, dipping into the low fifties, high forties overnight.

The surf was a comforting sound, waves turning and foaming at the beach like they always did. Caught between the golden interior lights and the faint slivers of stars and moon, Tony practically glowed against the night sky. Bucky draped himself around Tony’s back, resting his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “But this is nice.”

“It is,” Tony agreed, pulling Bucky’s arms around his waist and holding them there. “We could take the _night_ off, at least,” he teased, and twisted his head to kiss Bucky’s temple. More seriously, he asked, “How’s your shoulder?”

Bucky nuzzled at Tony’s neck. “Hurts. Less’n getting run over by a three hundred-pound pig would have hurt, mind you,” he admitted. “Probably can’t support my weight on it for any length of time. But, you know, a good pillow under my back and I could probably take you for a ride.”

“You think so, do you?” Tony asked, amused. “Or, we could give the jacuzzi a whirl.”

Bucky groaned, knees a little wobbly at the thought. “Oh, yes, that’s… hmmm-mmm. Good plan. I like this plan.” And he’d feel cleaner; he’d already showered once, but there was something sticky and pervasive about blood. He still felt _covered_ in it. And there were still red crescents under his nails that he’d really like to be gone.

The jacuzzi was a new acquisition; the previous owners hadn’t maintained the one that had come with the property particularly well and Bobbi had declared herself too lazy to scrub it out. Much easier just to buy a new one. They would be the first people to use this one. Tony folded back the top and turned on the heater and jets while Bucky poked at the porch fire pit for a little atmosphere.

The renovation plans included a trellis that would cover the hot tub, but while the framework was up, the plants hadn’t yet taken hold. But the privacy fence was high enough, Bucky figured. Unless the neighbors were really determined to spy, the backyard should probably be sheltered enough. The units to their sides were probably empty anyway; the weather was getting cold enough that beach vacations weren’t as interesting to most people. Bucky laid out several towels and then stripped, hissing as he peeled his shirt off over his abused shoulder. Hopefully the dimmer lighting would keep him from looking like a horror show.

Tony seemed more concerned than put off, at least. He touched lightly around the edges of the visible bruise, finding the invisible borders of where he could comfortably touch. When he’d mapped it out to his satisfaction, he came in closer to kiss lightly around it, beard alternately tickling and scratching, mouth a warm and soft counterpoint. He kissed up Bucky’s chest and then detoured when he reached Bucky’s neck, moving up toward the soft patch under the ear that made Bucky’s knees go wobbly.

Bucky nudged Tony out of his clothes, not helping as much as he usually did, eager and shaking to get his hands on Tony’s skin, but his shoulder really was damn painful and he didn’t want Tony to notice how much he was favoring it. Next time -- if there ever was a next time -- he needed to remember not to brace for recoil on the same shoulder that he’d just rolled on. “Come on, babydoll,” he said, nipping at Tony’s neck and then pushing him gently toward the whirlpool. “I’m freezing. _Again_.”

The water, at least, was almost broil-a-lobster hot. It stung at his myriad cuts and scrapes before the heat worked its way under his skin and started to ease the sore muscles. Bucky shifted around a little until the whirlpool jet was no longer blasting directly into his thigh and sat down on the benches that lined the pool.

Tony waited until Bucky had settled and then immediately climbed in, straddling Bucky’s thighs and wrapping his arm around Bucky’s neck on the non-injured side. “Mm, this is nice,” he said, leaning in until his lips just brushed Bucky’s. His free hand slipped between them, tracing idle loops across Bucky’s chest.

“ _You’re_ nice,” Bucky said, giving Tony his best sappy grin, then leaned him backward, arm looped around his waist until he was practically floating against the hot water, open and on display for Bucky’s gaze. Tony was so damn beautiful, sometimes it hurt Bucky’s chest just to look at him, to remember that he was allowed, encouraged even, to kiss and touch and stroke and lick and _look_. His other hand was shaking, still, the muscle pulling awkwardly, but he still managed to run his fingers down the expanse of Tony’s chest.

“I don’t think _nice_ is the adjective you’re looking for,” Tony said, arching into the touch. His stomach muscles tensed and flexed as he righted himself again, his mouth seeking Bucky’s. He nipped at Bucky’s lips, tongue flicking at the corners, teasing unbearably until he finally licked into Bucky’s mouth, deep and sensual and hot.

Bucky moved his mouth, leaning back and letting Tony in. Tony did absolutely wicked, filthy things with his tongue; there was nothing innocent or nice about it, Bucky had to agree, which was the last coherent thought that slipped through his mind. Tony’s fingers went into Bucky’s hair, holding him tight, keeping his mouth in place under Tony’s torrid kisses. God, Bucky wanted him; it seemed almost impossible that he’d managed to live so many years without Tony in his life, in his arms, in his bed. All those Tony-free years, wasted. Tony was moaning into Bucky’s mouth and it was the sweetest sound Bucky had ever heard. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” Bucky murmured, nipping lightly at Tony’s lower lip as he drew back. “Nice is the wrong word. Exquisite. Magnificent. Superb. _Ravishing_.” He punctuated each word with another kiss, licking and teasing at Tony’s mouth until he was panting for breath.

“Mm, you sure know how to flatter a guy,” Tony said, laughing. He kissed along Bucky’s jaw, traced the curve of Bucky’s ear with his tongue before dragging his teeth across the lobe. “I like the sound of _ravishing_ , myself.” His hands were under the water, teasing at Bucky’s sides and stomach, the calluses on Tony’s fingers deliciously rough on the soft skin.

“Dunno if I’m quite up to ravishing, tonight,” Bucky admitted, but he rolled his hips, getting a hint of friction, a frisson of heat along his spine. “You’ll have to settle for just pleasin’.” He kissed the corner of Tony’s mouth, teasing at the edge of his lips, then switched to the other side. “Gentle. Sweet. Perfect.” He nudged at Tony’s jaw, kissing a line back toward his ear before biting down lightly on the lobe. Bucky teased, luring Tony out and then drawing back, denying him until they were both breathless.

He traced a hand down Tony’s spine, lower until he was teasing at the top of Tony’s cleft, distracting and beguiling. And suddenly, as Tony pressed into him, the playful mood shifted until Bucky was on fire for it. He sought Tony’s mouth again, drinking in those kisses with fevered intensity. “Tony, Tony,” he murmured.  

“Yeah, baby, I’ve got you,” Tony said. He rocked his hips, pushing their cocks together in a sweet, aching tease of friction and heat that the water couldn’t match. “Want you,” he sighed, the words rolling off his tongue and onto Bucky’s. “Need you, Bucky, need to feel you.” He rocked again, breath hitching softly with each slow drag of skin and water.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Bucky said. Tony was unfairly pretty, all golden skin and smoky eyed looks and beautiful, brilliant smile. “I could look at you all day and not get enough.” He let his hand slide under the water, fingertip teasing over the side of Tony’s shaft, just one finger, tracing spirals and circles on the velvet skin. “Well, maybe. I don’t know that I could look that long and not touch. How about you, want me to touch you, Tony? Hmmm?”

Tony shuddered with wanting, trying to arch and rock into the touch. “Yes,” he groaned, “touch me, honey, I need it, need you.” One hand slipped up into Bucky’s hair, holding it, tangling into it like a lifeline. The other floated just under the water, dipping down to slide over Bucky’s chest and stomach, approaching but not quite reaching Bucky’s cock.

God, it was so damn _tempting_ to just keep going, tease and torment Tony until they crashed together, but -- and while Bucky was quite certain renters were going to do god only knew what in the hot tub -- Clint would be pissed off if Bucky befouled his brand new jacuzzi. One more kiss… he captured Tony’s mouth again, sweet and hot and-- Jesus. He tore his mouth free and panted for air. “You are worse than _cocaine_ ,” Bucky accused him, fondly. He nudged and pushed lightly and finally resorted to tickling Tony (which might have been a mistake, because Tony squirmed and writhed delightfully in Bucky’s lap) in order to get him onto his own section of the bench, still pressed close, tho.

Bucky chewed at his lip. Tony was not quite pouting, but it was close and Bucky just wanted to kiss that mock-sad expression right off his face. He groaned, then slid under the water, getting his hair wet and feeling the heat work its way into sore, aching muscles. When he came back up, he felt a little more in control of his hormone rush.  

Tony had taken advantage of Bucky’s temporary distraction to rearrange himself, propping his feet on the opposite bench and stretching his arms out on the sides of the tub. His head was tipped back to expose his throat, steam forming tiny droplets on the tips of his eyelashes, the very picture of indolent relaxation. “This really is very nice,” he observed, and if he hadn’t been practically desperate for it just a few minutes ago, Bucky would’ve thought that he wanted nothing more than to float there in the hot water.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, not looking away from Tony, drinking in his fill of that glorious body, vulnerable throat. “Yeah, it is.” And it could have gone so, so different. Bucky used to wonder what he’d done in a previous life to deserve some of the really horrible luck he’d gotten stuck with in the past and decided that maybe karma was setting him up for Tony, so that he could be in the right place, the right time, for Tony. That thought was both comforting and a little unsettling. He reached under the water and rested his hand on Tony’s thigh, closing his eyes and settling out.

Tony scooted a little closer, closing the hair’s breadth of space that had been between them and then some, pressing against Bucky’s side. “You feeling okay, babe?”

Bucky opened one eye, letting a smile touch his mouth. “Want you like crazy and I am _tryin’_ not to have to drain and clean this thing in the morning.” And every time he closed his eyes, he kept seeing the side of the damn building coming down. He kept checking, to make sure Tony was still there, his fingers tracing absent patterns on Tony’s thigh, taking reassurances from his solid presence.

Tony chuckled, low and wicked, which did Bucky’s attempt at calm no good at all. “So instead we’re going to play the ‘stall until someone can’t take it any more and demands a relocation’ game? I don’t see how well that’s going to work out for you; you’re _terrible_ at savoring and enjoying the moment.” Even with his eyes closed, Bucky could _feel_ Tony’s smirk.

Bucky made a face, feeling vaguely insulted. “Seems to work out well enough for _you_ ,” he said. “If you’d like to register a complaint, now’s probably the time.” Not that they didn’t have plenty of time, at the moment; Dockside being closed until Fury decided to open the sandbar back up; and they wouldn’t need to be back at the restaurant until at least two tomorrow. He could… they really could take their time, really enjoy it before collapsing in a pile of exhaustion. He gave Tony a very steady, heated look, let his tongue dart out and wet his bottom lip, one eyebrow up.

“I did not say it was a complaint,” Tony said, his eyes tracking the movement of Bucky’s tongue. “I’m just saying... Um. I dunno, what was I saying?”

“Something about my not being able to savor the moment,” Bucky said. “And waiting until someone demands a relocation.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing. “Bedroom’s that way.”

“So it is,” Tony agreed. “Are you suggesting that we relocate?”

Bucky let his finger trace a line up Tony’s thigh until he was caressing the fold of his hip. “You already know I want you,” Bucky pointed out. “Do you need me to say the words?” He leaned closer, letting his lips graze Tony’s ear. “Because I can tell you, if you want, pointedly, and in great detail, everything I want to do with you. Every place I want to kiss and lick and touch and taste.” He ran his tongue up the shell of Tony’s ear.  

Tony shuddered. “I mean... yes? I definitely want to hear all these plans. That sounds hot as _hell_.” He shivered again as Bucky’s breath ghosted across his ear. “But maybe you could tell me about it inside.”

“So get up,” Bucky suggested, giving Tony a very obvious leer. It was well-established by this point that one of Bucky’s favorite things was watching Tony’s backside, a weakness that Tony took advantage of at every single opportunity. But he had _plans_ , now…

Tony hesitated only long enough to draw a deep breath, then pushed away from the bench and stood up, water sheeting down his body. He turned toward the shallow steps that led back up onto the deck, grabbed the rails with both hands, and stepped up, just until his ass cleared the surface of the water. He paused there and twisted to look back at Bucky with heavy-lidded eyes, a blatant come-hither look that should have been slightly overplayed and ridiculous, except for how it wasn’t.

Bucky’s internal record player clicked over, found an appropriate lyric, ‘ _cause you are a magnet, and I am steel._ He was drawn to Tony, irresistible and inevitable. His arms went around Tony’s waist, arresting his movement. Bucky brushed the fingers of one hand over Tony’s dick, still hard, still eager for it, and then nuzzled at the top of his asscheek, nipping at the skin there. “Mmmm. Target of opportunity,” he said. Keeping Tony held in place, Bucky traced the line around Tony’s thigh to tease under that perfect half-circle.

Tony twitched and seemed torn between a giggle and a groan at the tickling-teasing touch. “Bucky...”

“Yes?” Bucky continued to tease under Tony’s buttocks, then ran his finger up Tony’s crack, spreading him just a little. He lowered his mouth and tongued that triangle of exquisitely sensitive skin at the base of Tony’s spine, then dipped lower, licking at the very top of his crack. Tony tasted strongly of chlorine and pool chemicals, but under it, Bucky finally found the tang of Tony’s skin. His finger came up, met at where his mouth was working, then started back down. Bucky chased it with his tongue, spreading Tony’s cheeks with two fingers to give himself room to work.

“Oh _god_ Bucky, you--” Tony gasped and shifted his grasp on the stair railing, leaning on them more heavily even as he widened his stance -- for balance? to give Bucky easier access? Bucky didn’t care which. “Oh fuck, that’s...” Tony’s voice spiraled out into a whine, his whole body quivering with each soft touch.

Bucky stroked down, then caressed the back of Tony’s thigh, up the tender inside skin until his hand was working just under Tony’s balls, rubbing and pressing and stroking. His other hand stayed light on Tony’s dick, pulling away as soon as Tony tried to rut against it until Tony was whining and twitching. Bucky teased, kept it up long past where he’d usually relent. “Get hold of the rails, baby,” he said, finally. He took a step back, cupped Tony’s cheeks, one in each hand and spread him open. God, Tony was beautiful; his puckered hole red from the heated water and wanting.

Bucky leaned forward and took a taste, running a broad stroke of his tongue right over the opening. He watched as the muscle twitched, hard, and then blew a cool breath over the overheated skin, gone in an instant but enough that Tony’s whole backside erupted into gooseflesh. Bucky let out a wicked chuckle, then pushed in, further, teasing around the opening with tiny, probing flicks of his tongue.

Tony was all but hanging from the railing, shuddering and whimpering with need. “Oh my god, Bucky, what you do to me... Baby, honey, _please_...”

Bucky slid a finger into the mix, prodding lightly, encouraging Tony to open up for him, flicking a series of kitten licks around the outside. He moved a little, sucked a mark onto Tony’s right ass cheek, then soothed the stinging red skin. Tony’s hole fluttered and squeezed around his finger; this would be so much better with lube, some of that nice strawberry flavored stuff, but it was back at the house, and Tony could take a little bit, dry, if Bucky didn’t push it too hard. Besides, he didn’t want to stop. The little sounds Tony was making, the way his knuckles were going white on the rail, each delicious shudder and shiver were delightful and Bucky didn’t want them to stop.

He stropped, cat-like, against Tony’s ass, feeling the prickle of his stubble catch at the wet skin, delicately scratching. “Hmmm?” Bucky asked him, twisting his wrist a little and testing the muscle. “Look how pretty you are, baby, all on display for me. God, I…” _could do this forever_ , he finished the thought, leaning down to lick and nip. He pulled his finger out, replaced it with his tongue, pushing at the opening there, encouraging more, more.

Tony was gasping, each breath halfway to sobbing. “Ohgod, Bucky, I, I’m not, I can’t... Oh, fuck, baby, it feels so good but I’m going to lose my fucking grip here, you-- _God_ , you don’t even know what you do to me. Need you, want you, need you so bad. Please, baby, please...”

Bucky ran a soothing hand over Tony’s back, down his side. He slid up, letting himself rub all over Tony’s body, beaded now with sweat rather than water. He nipped at the shell of Tony’s ear and said, hot and eager, “I know _exactly_ what I’m doing to you.” He rocked his hips, grinding against Tony’s ass, moving his hand over Tony’s cock in time with his slow slide. As Tony’s breath hitched and rasped, he slowed his movements even further, just hot, sensual nudges, really. Letting his cock slide between Tony’s asscheeks; the friction just divine. But Tony was starting to sway dangerously, Bucky wanted him eager, not passing out. He dropped a kiss between Tony’s shoulder blades. “You wanna go inside, honey?”

***

Tony felt hot and shivery, the heat of the water in the jacuzzi was a delicious contrast with the chilly autumn night air; the swirling steam rose to bead against his skin and then roll down with a light tickling sensation that somehow just amplified the torment of Bucky’s hands and mouth. Fire flowed in his veins and his hands ached from holding the stair rails so tightly and he was starting to feel dizzy and maybe not in the best way.

Bucky wouldn’t let him fall, he felt sure, but Bucky was still bruised and tender and probably shouldn’t be trying to lift Tony’s weight with that arm just yet. (And possibly poking at Bucky’s competitive nature for the amazing sex was a sport that should be reserved for when they were both healthy, but Tony just hadn’t been able to resist. It wasn’t often that they both had so much leisure time in one big chunk.)

He rocked forward a bit, just enough to slide his knee onto the next step, for support, and nodded. “Think we’d better go in, yeah... Can’t, can’t hold myself up much longer, an’ if I’m going to end up choking, I’d rather it be on your cock than the water.”

Bucky made a strangling noise in his throat, half-laugh, half desperate moan. “Evil,” he noted, then pinched Tony’s ass as he moved out of the hot tub, petting, groping, and otherwise nudging Tony up onto the smooth wooden deck. It wasn’t exactly encouraging Tony to go _anywhere_ , honestly. Finally, he managed enough steps that Bucky could crawl around him. Bucky got a towel around his waist and then helped Tony to his feet and wrapped him in a beach towel, patting his arms dry and then closing it around his shoulders.  

Tony had to focus on standing up for a moment as the heat leached out of his skin, but Bucky’s grip was firm and grounding. Then everything was steady again and Bucky was in front of him, looking the tiniest bit worried and very, very turned on, and _god_ , Tony wanted Bucky so much it _hurt_. He surged forward to catch Bucky’s mouth in a kiss, remembering only at the last second not to drop both arms aroun Bucky’s neck. He curled his hands carefully around Bucky’s waist instead, teasing at the edge of the towel as he nudged Bucky back toward the doors and the bed that was just beyond them.

Bucky walked backward into the house, turning when they got to the door. He twisted the knob and pushed it open. Once inside, he turned off the light, but left the blinds open, the moonlight and still-lit firepit providing a glowing, orange illumination. He let his towel fall onto the floor and then kissed Tony, light, soft. With a gentle hand, he turned Tony around until they were in front of the dressing room doors, mirrored from floor to ceiling. Usually it just provided the illusion that the room was larger than it actually was, but at the moment Tony’s attention was caught by their reflection. Bucky stripped off Tony’s towel and ran his hands down Tony’s shoulders and arms, watching them in the mirror. He drew a hand up, once he got to Tony’s wrist, teasing and circling. He traced a wide circle around Tony’s nipple, then a smaller one. When Tony twisted to look down, Bucky tipped his chin back in the direction of the mirror. “Look, look how gorgeous you are, Tony.”

Tony didn’t really care what he looked like, but the expression on Bucky’s face, the way Bucky’s eyes shone in the dim light -- that was worth looking at. He watched Bucky touch him, watched the way Bucky’s eyes devoured their reflection, hungry for every response, every arch and twitch and moan that Tony let loose. That look of wanting on Bucky’s expression made Tony’s pulse race, warmth spreading through him, knowing that Bucky was _his_. “Love you,” Tony murmured, tipping his head back to catch the underside of Bucky’s jaw with a kiss.

Those teasing, soft touches were going to light him on fire, though. Bucky was being a complete _bastard_ , really. Moving his hands to keep Tony guessing, tempting and beguiling and just a shade quicker and softer than Tony would have prefered. He kept Tony’s attention focused on the mirror as he teased Tony’s nipples into aching peaks, palmed over Tony’s cock, stroked Tony’s sides.

Finally, when Tony’s knees were so wobbly with need he wasn’t sure -- _literally_ wasn’t sure he could keep standing at all -- Bucky turned him and captured his mouth in one fierce kiss, then pulled him back toward the bed.

He took Tony’s face between his hands and kissed him, kissed Tony with every bit of fire and passion that Tony’d been craving, hungry with desire.

“Need you, baby,” Bucky admitted, eyes wide and dark in the faint light. They tumbled onto the bed, Tony ending up on top, his weight pressing Bucky down into the mattress, twisting to avoid Bucky’s bruised shoulder.

Bucky’s hips lifted, rutted against him, and he moaned, sweet and needy and desperate.  

“Yeah?” Tony rolled his hips, rubbing them together, and shuddered at the friction, the firm press of their bodies together. “Yeah. Need you too, honey.” He dragged his lips down Bucky’s throat, too hungry and desperate for the delicacy of anything like a _kiss_ , but needing the taste of Bucky’s skin. “Gotta-- gotta wait just a little longer, baby, can you do that? Just a little bit longer so I can get myself all open and ready, and then I’ll ride you until we’re both screaming. Yeah? Can you do that for me, baby, just hang in there a little bit longer?”

Bucky bit down on his lower lip, eyes slowly sliding shut as Tony talked, and he rolled up again, rubbing himself against Tony’s thighs and ass, breathing hard, then, “Yeah, yeah, I… okay, yeah, Tony, _baby_. I…” Bucky nodded, a little frantic and nudged Tony off so he could slide up the bed. He panted for air, seemingly unable to take his eyes off Tony as Tony scrambled for the overnight bag.

Tony squirted lube onto his fingers and twisted awkwardly to reach. He’d prepped himself before for Bucky, making it a slow tease, but they were both already so wound up, he didn’t have any patience left for finding a position that let Bucky watch, or for drawing it out. He pushed two fingers in right off, hissing a little at the burn but too desperate to care. “God, you make me crazy,” he panted. “In all the best ways.”

Three, and that ached, but Tony pushed through it, too impatient to be gentle with himself. He needed Bucky in him, needed it _now_. Fuck, it was a good thing he couldn’t reach his own prostate or he’d already be shooting off. He pushed again, gauging. Close enough. He grabbed at the bag with his free hand and fished out a condom, tossed it vaguely toward Bucky’s head. “C’mon, honey, just about there.”

Bucky grabbed the packet and tore it open with his teeth, then grimaced. “Uck!” He leaned back a bit, getting pillows stacked under his back to brace his shoulder, then stroked himself, watching Tony, getting himself ready and hard. Rolled the condom on and pinched the air out of the end. “God, _look_ at you,” Bucky said, slow and reverent.  

Tony laughed, a little shaky, and crawled over Bucky, bracing his hands on either side of Bucky’s head instead of on Bucky’s shoulders, where he usually put them. “Rather look at you,” he said, grinning at his own ridiculously cheesy line. He kissed Bucky, slow and sweet. “You about ready?” he asked, unable to resist a last little tease.

“Pretty sure that if you don’t fuck me almost _immediately_ , I am going to spontaneously combust,” Bucky said. He reached up one hand and touched Tony’s face, running a soft finger over Tony’s lips, far more gentle than Tony would have expected and somehow, shockingly intimate, given what he was saying.

“I got you,” Tony promised. He wriggled back some, settling his position, and then reached back to steady Bucky’s cock as he lined up and slowly sank onto it. He screwed his eyes shut tight -- the blissful look on Bucky’s face was more than he could stand -- and panted a little as he adjusted to Bucky’s girth, the sweetest pain he knew.

And then he was fully seated, Bucky filling him so perfectly. “Oh, god, baby, that feels so perfect,” he gasped. “You feel so good.”

Bucky’s hands came down on Tony’s hips, holding him, cradling him against Bucky. His fingers gripped Tony’s skin, curling in, claiming him. Bucky rolled his hips a few times, slow and easy, shifting his position, eyes intent on Tony’s face as they moved together. Finally, he found whatever it was he was seeking, and he moved faster, sliding himself in and out of Tony’s body with delicious friction.

He drew his knees up until Tony could lean back a little, changing the angle, and then, then it was perfect. Bucky groaned, his hands tighter on Tony’s hips, leaving finger bruises in the tender skin. “Oh, my god, Tony,” Bucky rasped, voice shaking.

“Yeah, baby, just like that,” Tony panted, rocking down to meet Bucky’s upward thrusts. God, it always seemed like he couldn’t possibly get Bucky deep enough inside him, like if he just got a little further in, that warmth could be with him forever. He curled a hand around his cock and pumped it, the sensation setting off sparks under his skin. “Come on, honey,” he said, “want to feel you coming in me.”

Bucky fucked up, hips flexing as he bounced them on the bed, a rough, almost brutal ride. Tony had to brace himself as Bucky worked in him, a deep, heavy stroke that brushed his prostate on every thrust. “Come here, baby,” Bucky said, drawing him down. “Wanna kiss you, your stupid, pretty mouth, Tony, I…” Bucky buried his hand in Tony’s hair as soon as he bent forward, yanking them together, their lips crashing against each other. Bucky’s tongue invaded his mouth, tasting and exploring. It was rough, urgent, barely a kiss at all, but _oh, god_. Bucky groaned against Tony’s lips and then pulled back to breathe. “Oh, god, Tony… my Tony… I… god, I love you.”

“Love you too,” Tony gasped, not even sure he was coherent through the fire that was rushing under his skin. “God, Bucky, I love you so much...” He left one hand braced by Bucky’s head and closed the other on his cock, almost too tight, and let Bucky’s frantic motion jerk him in and out of his own grip, uneven and rough and _fuck_ so good. “Baby... Bucky, honey, I can’t... can’t hold it back much longer,” he groaned. “Give it to me, baby, need you now, _need_ it, _please_.”

Bucky’s hips moved urgently under Tony, an intense, driving rhythm that stoked the fire between them. His fingers tightened again and he made a soft, fierce moan, shuddering toward his completion. Bucky never looked away as his eyes darkened with need, his mouth opened to exhale what seemed like the last breath. His body arched up, pressing and pushing into Tony. He froze that way, back a perfect curve away from the bed, practically on his toes. He cried out, then spasmed under Tony, in him, around him.

And oh _fuck_ the way Bucky’s cock swelled and pulsed with his climax was just-- just _perfect_ , like tossing a match onto dry tinder. Every nerve in Tony’s body lit up, and he threw back his head and screamed his release.

He collapsed onto Bucky’s chest, only barely remembering to aim for the uninjured side, and went limp, panting and gasping for air and vaguely enjoying the way Bucky was breathing just as hard. “God, I love you.”

Bucky ran a hand through Tony’s hair, separating the locks with his fingers, then kiss the top of his head. “That… that little mischievous streak of yours, Tony,” he said, then drifted off a little bit, half asleep.

“Hmm, what’s that?” Tony couldn’t quite lift his head, but he did manage to tip it a little to eye his boyfriend.

“Gonna get you in trouble, some day,” Bucky managed.

Tony hummed, and let his eyes droop closed again. “Working out pretty well for me so far,” he mumbled, snuggling closer.

“Gonna get _me_ in trouble, some day.”

***

“Three hunnert an’ sixty pounds,” Harry-Rex had reported. “Ain’t a record, but it’s a respectable hog.”  

Steve took one look at the enormous carcass and practically started to cry with joy. He rolled up his sleeves, put his freshly-blue hair into a net, and got to work. He mixed up gallons of marinade, something with a lot of limes and garlic and onions.

While he did that, the rest of them got the carcass prepped. What would have been an enormous undertaking for an individual was rendered vastly easier by Bucky already owning a lot of the equipment. Tony and Nat had been sent into the walk-in fridge to clear space while Bucky and Sam and Clint dressed the boar, removing the outer fur and bristles, gutting it, and cutting the head off, because the head was just too big to fit in Harry-Rex’s smoker. Harry-Rex offered some help that mostly amounted to watching over their shoulders and nit-picking, but it was his smoker, so they let him kibbitz. Bucky cheated, a little bit, and racked off the tenderloin, one ham for later smoking, and half the belly for bacon. Still, there was going to be enough pork for at least a two hundred pulled pork sandwiches.

Getting the pig into a steel bin to marinate and then hauling the whole thing into the fridge was ridiculously difficult. The damn pig weighed as much as most football linebackers, even after it had been carved down some.

The pork soaked for two days in Steve’s marinade while Clint and Bobbi plastered advertisements all over Sandbridge and a few select places in Virginia Beach. Bucky set Tony and Nat to making absolute buckets full of coleslaw and Steve spent the better part of one day making dozens of pies and several quarts of baked beans.

“Here,” Nat said, presenting Tony with a plate and a slice of pie. A single crust cradled a creamy custard filling that was speckled with cinnamon and nutmeg. “Buttermilk pie.” She jerked her thumb at the staff table. “We must eat the troublemaker pie; the filling cracked, we cannot serve that to customers, so it will be punished. We will eat it early.”

Bucky snorted at her affronted look, like the pie was personally responsible for being less than perfect. Honestly, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d shaken the oven rack mid-bake, just to make one of them turn out badly. He cut himself a wedge and balanced the plate on his knee when he sat on the end of the staff table.

Tony obediently took the plate that Nat was shoving at him and cut the tip off the offending slice of pie. He watched her nervously as he ate it, as if she might throttle him if he didn’t like it. (It was Nat, so it wasn’t an entirely unwarranted concern.) He swallowed and nodded. “Not bad. It’s very... sweet. I see why it’s your favorite.” He grinned at her.

“Southern pies often are,” Bucky said. “Practically just sugar, milk, and flavor.” He worked his way through his slice easily. Once he got the wobbly bits clear, he just picked up the rest and shoved the whole thing into his mouth. Steve made the best pie crust; Bucky wasn’t sure what it was. Most pie, he was prone to scraping the innards out and leaving a big chunk of pastry on the plate.

But Steve had gone to school to be a chef, and his pie crust was worth eating even without any filling in it at all. Sometimes Bucky thought his talent was wasted on Dockside, but Steve had been quite firm about his distaste for larger, more elaborate kitchens. Whatever. Bucky was pretty sure the restaurant wouldn’t have survived if Steve hadn’t been working the grill these last few years.

“Not even all that much flavor,” Tony said, taking another thoughtful bite. “Just sweet and creamy. Kind of like pudding.”

Nat reached over her own slice with her fork to threaten Tony’s. “If you do not want it, Antonishka, I will make the sacrifice and eat your share.”

“I’m allowed to like it without it being my favorite,” he said, pulling it away from her.

Bucky got his fork in between them. “No warring, you’ll just end up with pie on the floor, Nat. If you want another piece, just get one.”

Nat sliced off another wedge, muttering under her breath about how other people’s food tasted _better_. That sounded like a challenge, and so Bucky stole a bite off her plate and then had to dodge around the kitchen for a while as she attempted to maim him with the spatula. He ended that by sitting next to Tony and putting his hand on Tony’s head. “Tony is home base,” he declared.

“Um,” Tony said. “No?”

“Some boyfriend you are,” Bucky said. “Not giving me a safe spa--” He broke off to dodge under the table and came up the other side, trying to escape a rampaging Nat.

Steve sighed, crossed his arms, and barricaded the door out to the dining floor. “No running in my kitchen.” Bucky promptly ignored him out of self-preservation.

Tony backed up against the wall, protecting his plate. “Sorry, babe. All’s fair in love and boar.”

Nat stopped on a dime. “You did… you did _not_ just say that.” She whirled on Tony, mouth twitching as she tried really, really hard not to laugh.

“I didn’t?” Tony made round eyes at Nat. “I must have just thought it really loudly, then.”

“There will be re-pork-cussions for abusing the language like that,” Nat declared, looking pleased with herself.

Bucky sat down again, panting for breath and dropped his head on the table. “I’m going to need a ham-bulance if these bad puns keep up.”

“Keeping up with you people is a very difficult tusk,” Tony complained smugly.

“Ug, you’re bacon my heart, here,” Steve added.

Underneath the table was looking better and better by the second. No waitresses on the warpath, no punning boyfriend, and no Steve scowling like he was channeling Winifred Barnes’s spirit. “I give up,” Bucky said. “I don’t want to porcine today. I think I’ll just be slop, instead.”

“Oh, stop swining,” Nat scolded.

“He’s wallowing in it,” Steve pointed out.

Bucky groaned and let himself slide under the table.

“Come on, guys,” Tony chided. “Stop ribbing him.”

Bucky stuck his head out long enough to give Tony a fierce look. “You are dispigable.”

Tony leaned down to kiss him. “Sow-wy, babe. You’re stuck with me.”

“Stop hogging all the good puns,” Steve added. “There’s not going to be any left.”

Bucky glared at Steve. “I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing as a good pun, Steve.”

Sam pushed in through the kitchen doors, nearly knocking Steve over, then stopped, dead, looking around the room. “Oh, no, man,” he said, holding his hands up. “I don’ even wanna know what y’all are up to, in here. Nope, not even…” He started backing out of the kitchen hastily. “Y’all jus’ call if you decide you need help gettin’ that pig out of the smoker.”

Thank God for Sam, Bucky thought. He grabbed the table top and yanked himself out from under it. “Right. Work, it’s a thing.” He was not fleeing from the pun contest, that was exactly nothing like what was going on. Strategic retreats were an essential part of all battle plans. Right.

“Uh-oh, guess we’d better hoof it,” Tony muttered under his breath, even as he gathered up the now-empty pie plates and loaded them into the washer.

The smoker was finally done with the pig; Bucky flipped the lid and a cloud of pungent, sweet-smelling smoke rolled out. They’d rented a couple of tents and set them up just past the smoker, using kiddie pools filled with ice to keep ‘slaw and potato salad cold while everything got ready. Customers with their pre-sold tickets were already milling on the beach, and Steve had to stand guard over the carcass as soon as Bucky started to unrack it. Pork-mad diners snuck around to snitch choice bits before the pulling started.

Tony came out with half a dozen huge mixing bowls and Bucky used bear-claw scrapers to tear the smoked meat and dumped it in while Steve prepped a few different kinds of barbeque sauce. Nat got paper admissions bracelets on diners who’d paid the entry fee for what was, essentially, an all-you-could-eat pig-picking.

The sun was getting low in the sky before most of the diners had cleared out; a few determined locals were still snitching cracklins. Bucky packed up some of the remaining meats and sold them in weighed containers to people on the go.

Tony was on self-appointed beach patrol, gathering up stray napkins and paper plates that had gotten away in the autumn wind, earning a smile of approval from Nat. And finally, finally, the beach was empty and just the clean up and break down was left to do.

“So,” Bucky said, putting an arm around his boyfriend, “first pig-picking. What’d you think?”

“It was good,” Tony said, leaning into Bucky’s side. “Lots of work, but it was actually kind of fun, too, and we made a pretty good profit.”

Bucky nodded, nuzzling at Tony’s temple. “Good enough to think about making it an annual thing?”

“Sure,” Tony said. “But next year, let’s just order a pig, instead of hunting our own.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> A sounder is a group of feral pigs, sometimes also referred to as razorbacks in the United States.
> 
>  _As of 2013, the estimated population of six million feral pigs causes billions of dollars in property damage every year in the United States, both in wild and agricultural lands. Because pigs forage by rooting for their food under the ground with their snout and tusks, a sounder (group) of feral pigs can damage acres of planted fields in just a few nights._ (taken from Wikipedia)
> 
> A sounder of razorbacks are two to three families, usually one or two full grown males and a half dozen or more females and piglets. In the wetlands area between southern Virginia and North Carolina (including the Great Dismal Swamp) is home to some five to seven thousand feral pigs. They’re a very invasive species. In places where they’ve had more time to breed, for example, the population has exploded. There are an estimated five MILLION feral pigs in Texas. [This is what they sound like](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZL5ab3u6T_k&t=9s).
> 
> Tisfan doesn’t live that far from the Great Dismal Swamp and recently, a group of feral pigs managed to get into her neighborhood, where they were causing property damage, getting into people’s trash, and managed to kill one neighbor’s dog. (Which event prompted the idea for this story.) They’re so aggressive and dangerous that groups of hunters go looking for them to try to thin their numbers.
> 
> Like most pigs, you have to cook the hell out of it, but there’s absolutely nothing wrong with eating feral pig meat. It’s actually pretty good. An adult male can weigh on average two hundred to three hundred and fifty pounds of which 60 - 75% of that is worth eating, with 55% being “prime cut.”
> 
> A pig-picking is exactly what it sounds like: split the hog, remove all the guts, flip him over on a smoker, dump a shit-ton of vinegar and barbecue sauce on him, and you’ve got enough meat to feed several hundred people. A long slow smoking renders most of the meat tender and easily shreddable, perfect for making pulled-pork barbecue.


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